Escaping the Past
by Erika Heitz
Summary: This is the long-awaited sequel to my story, "Neal Who?". I hope you guys enjoy this, and I'm sorry it took SO LONG. Let me know if you like where this is going so I can know if I should keep writing it. Enjoy! (There will be lots of Neal whumpage in this. If you know me, you should expect nothing less.)
1. Back to Normal

_**I am BACK, baby! Lol. Sorry, I'm just kind of excited to be writing White Collar fanfics again. Have you guys missed me? haha just kidding. Anyway, a lot of you have been waiting for this sequal for a very long time, and I hope you like what I've done! Enjoy!  
~Erika**_

* * *

"I want every available unit on this," Peter said grimly. "We have to find Neal."

"I'll get NYPD in on it," Jones said dutifully.

"And I'll call every federal agency in the state," Diana promised, pulling out her phone. The two agents walked off, leaving Peter alone in Neal's empty apartment.

Peter didn't say anything, his mind crowded with worry, as his phone began to ring. With a sigh, he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"Burke," he said when he answered.

"Peter," Neal sounded panicked.

"Neal?" Peter's eyes bolted open wide. "Where are you?"

"I don't know..." the consultant seemed out-of-it, as if he had been drugged. "I don't know where I am...I'm moving...that's all I know..."

"Can you see anything?" Peter pressed.

"No," Neal murmured. "I think it's a car...the trunk of a car..."

"Good, Neal," Peter approved. "That's good."

"Peter, you have to help me," Neal's voice was full of terror. "Please...you have to get me away from him..."

"Who, Neal?" Peter jumped on the opening. "Who is it?"

"We stopped..." Neal's voice was tight with fear. Peter heard the sound of the trunk opening.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" came a man's angry voice from the other end of the call.

"No! Peter you have to help me! Please!" Neal shouted hurriedly, his tone filled with horror.

"Neal! Neal!" Peter was desperate to keep the call going, but it was too late. The end tone was ringing in the agent's ear. His hand shaking, Peter hung up.

He had to find Neal. Fast.

* * *

48 hours earlier...

* * *

Neal packed up his stuff at the end of his day at the FBI, ready to go home. He was about to leave when he heard his partner call his name.

"Neal!" Peter said quickly to get his attention.

"Yeah, Peter?" Neal asked, stopping.

"Nothing," Peter assured him. "I was just going to walk out with you."

"Ok," Neal agreed, walking out towards the elevators.

"So how are you doing since you got back?" the FBI agent asked his CI. Neal had been involved in several complicated situations, including a hit-and-run accident that wiped most of his memories and an explosion. Both incidents left him in the hospital for several weeks, and then at home recuperating for a few more, during which time the consultant regained most of his memories. This was his first week back.

"You've been asking me that question every day for six days," Neal muttered. "The answer is not going to change: I'm fine."

"Still can't remember that night?" Peter pressed. He needed to know who had caused Neal to run the night he got hit by the car, who scared him so much that they made him run out into the street to avoid talking to him.

Neal hesitated, not looking Peter in the eye as he pressed the button to call the elevator. He was trying to remember; he really was. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not remember a thing from that night. Finally, he shook his head.

"No," he said dully, stepping onto the elevator when the doors opened. "I keep trying, but...that entire day is still totally blank to me."

Peter sighed, stepping on beside him. "It's ok, Neal," he assured his friend. "You'll get it eventually."

"How can you sound so sure?" Neal asked. "You heard what the doctor said the last time; he said I may never remember that night."

"Yeah, well, I know you better than some doctor," Peter said dismissively. "If you want to do something, you'll do it. No one can say anything to stop you. Trust me, I know."

"Yeah, I remember that part," Neal smiled. "Hey, could I get a ride? I've kind of got a headache..."

"Sure," Peter agreed. "No problem."

"Thanks," Neal said sincerely.

"Anytime," Peter grinned, stepping off the elevator when they reached their floor.

The two men walked side-by-side out to Peter's car, then climbed inside. They made small talk during the whole five minutes it took to get to Neal's apartment. Peter came to a stop outside the door.

"See you tomorrow, Peter," Neal sighed as he got out of the car.

"Bye, Neal," Peter sounded tired as Neal closed the door behind him. The FBI agent waited until his CI vanished inside his house before heading for home to get some much-needed sleep...

* * *

"_Neal," Ellen sounded concerned when the boy she had promised herself she would look out for walked through her front door. The teenager had a cut above his eye and bruise on his jaw. "Neal, what happened?"_

"_Nothing," the seventeen-year-old muttered, putting his backpack on the table._

"_That's not nothing," Ellen protested, gently grabbing the boy's chin to look at his injuries. Neal shook her off. "Were you in a fight?"_

_Neal didn't say anything, sitting down at the table and taking out one of his textbooks._

"_Did..." Ellen hesitated. "Did Joe do that?" Ellen had never liked the man who married his former partner's ex-wife. Not for a moment._

"_What?" Neal seemed genuinely surprised. "No. Of course not."_

"_Neal, you don't have to lie to me," Ellen said gently._

"_I'm not lying," Neal argued. He was, of course, but he had gotten so used to denying the allegations that it sounded like the truth._

"_Look, I know it's been hard since Emily left for college," Ellen began._

"_He didn't do anything," Neal's response was almost automatic. "He's a nice guy."_

"_Ever since he married your mom, you've been coming over with more and more bruises," Ellen pointed out._

"_Maybe I just don't like that he married my mom," Neal argued. "He's a nice guy, Ellen. Look, I've got to go." Neal grabbed his stuff and slung his backpack over his shoulder. "I'll talk to you later."_

"_Neal," Ellen protested._

"_Goodbye, Ellen," Neal said definitively._

_Little did he know that this would be the last time he saw her for a very long time..._

* * *

Neal jolted awake from his dream, his heart racing. When he recognized his surroundings, he sighed and relaxed some. It was still pitch black outside; a quick glance at his clock told him that it was around three in the morning. With a groan, the consultant rubbed his eyes and stood up from his bed. Drowsily, he shuffled over to his balcony doors, pulling one open and slipping outside. The pale scars on his back and abdomen seemed to glow in the faint city lights; there was a large one on his back and a small one on his abdomen from where he had been impaled by glass after the explosion, and a smaller one on his back that had refused to stop bleeding. With a sigh, Neal looked out over the city he had come to love. He looked down at the street below him...and gasped, jumping back in surprise.

"Oh, my God," the consultant gasped, his heart racing, his eyes wide with fear. His breaths increased their speed as he pressed his shaking hands into his eyes.

"He wasn't real," he said to himself. "He wasn't real. He's not here. You're safe. He's not here. He doesn't know where you are. He's not here."

Slowly, Neal opened his eyes and crept back over to the railing, looking down. The person he thought he saw wasn't there, and the consultant sighed with relief, trying to convince himself that he never was. Neal shook his head and walked back into his apartment, crawling back into bed and slowly drifting back to sleep...

* * *

Neal woke up the next morning to see light streaming in through his window. With a well-rested sigh, the consultant climbed out of bed, yawned, and stretched. Then he walked over to his kitchen table, sorting through yesterday's mail that he had left there the night before. Most of it was junk, but when he picked up a pale blue envelope with his name handwritten across it, his attention was grabbed. He looked at the return address and smiled. It was from Emily, his older sister, whom he had recently gotten back in touch with. She was living on the other side of the city, working as a journalist for a newspaper. Curious, he opened his sister's letter.

_Two people met over a hotdog one day_

_And their lives have never been the same..._

_Please join us in celebrating the marriage of_

_Emily Wall_

_And _

_Dustin Pond_

_Saturday, May 25, 2013_

_Hope to see you there!_

Neal smiled. He had met Emily's boyfriend a few times, and he knew that they were getting serious. He was thrilled to know that he had finally popped the question. Beneath the typed golden words was a message in Emily's handwriting.

_Neal, I invited Peter, Jones, Diana, June, and Elizabeth, too, so I hope you'll be able to go. I really don't want you to miss this._

_If you could invite Mozzie for me, too, that would be great. I didn't even try to track him down; I knew it would be impossible. Talk to you soon, little brother!_

_~Emily_

Neal grinned in excitement. He couldn't wait to see his sister again, and at her wedding, no less. He quickly set the invitation down on the table and got ready for the day, taking a quick shower and putting on one of his favorite suits. He had just finished getting ready when his phone rang on his nightstand.

"Yeah, Peter?" he asked when he answered. He got his friend's name from the caller ID.

"Good, you're up," Peter seemed satisfied. "I'm outside. We've got a case."

"I'll be right down," Neal promised. Then he hung up the phone, dropping it into his pants pocket and heading out his door...

* * *

"Peter, I swear, if I have to do one more mortgage fraud case, I'm going to shoot myself," Neal groaned, leaning back in his chair.

"Hey, you wouldn't have to do this if you hadn't been a criminal," Peter pointed out.

"Yes, Peter, I made bad choices," Neal rolled his eyes. "But seriously, are you telling me you can't solve this on your own?"

"No, I probably can," Peter admitted. "But you have to earn your keep."

"I do that all the time," Neal argued.

"Yes, but the big cases don't come around every day. Sometimes, you have to deal with a mortgage fraud case," Peter told him.

"But they're so boring," Neal complained. "We've been at this all day. We know the guy is guilty; why can't you just arrest him so I can go home?"

"Because we need more evidence," Peter sighed impatiently.

"Evidence is boring," Neal groaned.

"You know what, Neal," Peter had had enough. "It's getting kind of late. Why don't you head home?"

"Really?" Neal grinned, sitting up in his chair.

"Yes, please," Peter rolled his eyes.

"Great!" Neal laughed, jumping to his feet. "Goodnight, Peter!"

"Goodnight, Neal," Peter called after his consultant as he dashed out of the conference room and down the stairs into the bullpen. Before long, he had disappeared onto the elevator...

* * *

Neal walked through his door around midnight, ready to get to bed. He pulled off his suit jacket and hung it over the back of one of the chairs at his kitchen table. No sooner had he done so did someone grab him and throw him up against the wall and pin him there. Neal struggled instinctively, but whoever it was was strong. He flinched when he felt his neck get stabbed with a needle.

"Nighty-night, Neal," a voice growled in his ear. Even after all this time, it still sent chills down his spine and shot fear into his core.

"No..." Neal murmured, a tear escaping the corner of his eye. It was the last thing he said before he fell to the ground, unconscious...

* * *

**_Well, that's all for now! Let me know what you think! It's good to be back..._**


	2. Olivia

**_Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Don't forget to review and fav! :D  
~Erika_**

* * *

Neal slowly opened his eyes, afraid of what he might see. The last thing he remembered before he was knocked out for a second time was a pair of dark brown, almost black eyes that smoldered with anger and hatred. Eyes that he hadn't seen in seventeen years. Eyes that he had hoped he would never see again. He hoped to God that when he opened his eyes, he wouldn't be looking into those eyes, the eyes that had haunted his nightmares for as long as he could remember.

When the conman's eyes opened, he found that he was lying on a bed in a small bedroom. The sun was beginning to seep into the room through the window. His right wrist was handcuffed to the bedpost. The cold metal bit hard into his skin, causing him pain whenever he moved his wrist. He was alone. When the door to his room opened, the conman jumped, expecting the worst. He didn't at all expect to see the woman standing in front of him.

The woman looked to be about fifty-five, with graying dark brown hair and brilliant blue eyes. She was very thin and not very tall, and seemed sick, but Neal knew she wasn't. She had been like that for a long time.

"Mom?" Neal croaked, tears in his eyes.

"Neal," Neal's mother ran to her son, wrapping her arms around him. There were tears in her eyes. Neal hugged her back with his free arm, happy to see her in spite of how angry he had been at her for most of his life.

"Thank God you're alright," Mrs. Davidson breathed, smoothing Neal's hair. "When he said he was going to get you, I thought..."

"I'm ok," Neal assured her. These two words had become a reflex for him to say when he was around his mother. Every once in a while, she would get concerned about him, and Neal would always tell her that he was fine, that he was ok. He never knew why he did it, but he always did.

"Mom," Neal said after a moment, pulling away. "What's going on?"

His mother was about to answer when the door opened. Neal froze, his eyes wide with fear, when he saw who was standing there. The man in the doorway was tall and muscular, despite being around fifty-seven years old. He had brown hair, a mean-looking face, and dark, almost black eyes.

"Linda," Joe Davidson growled. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Joe, please," Linda's eyes were fearful, too. "Please, leave Neal alone."

Anger flared in Joe's eyes, and he quickly walked over to where Linda was standing. He roughly grabbed her arm and dragged her to the door.

"Why don't you learn to mind your own damn business, you stupid bitch?" Joe snapped, shoving the smaller woman out into the hallway.

"Mom!" Neal shouted, pulling on his handcuffs to try and see his mother. He couldn't manage to reach a position where it was possible, and anyway, Joe slammed the door closed after a few seconds.

Joe turned to Neal, and Neal felt his breath catch in his throat. His heart kicked into high gear, and all of the sudden, he was a little kid again, terrified of the big monster with eyes like pieces of coal.

Joe began to walk over to the restrained conman, and Neal immediately scrambled back, away from him. It wasn't long before he got as far as he could go. Joe smirked slightly at him.

"Hello, Neal," he smiled. "It's been a long time."

"What do you want?" Neal demanded, his voice shaking.

"Ok, here's the deal," Joe sighed. "I may have borrowed some money from people I shouldn't have, and I may or may not be able to pay them back. You are going to help me get what I need."

"You're the one who ran me over, weren't you?" Neal's eyes widened with the realization.

"Yes," Joe smirked slightly, seeming to enjoy the memory.

"Why?" Neal shook his head; it didn't make sense.

"You don't remember?" Joe raised an eyebrow.

Neal hesitated, then shook his head.

"Huh," Joe seemed surprised. "You refused to help me. You ran. I got angry. I lost my temper."

Neal didn't respond, hardly daring to breathe.

"Look, Neal, I'm going to let you out of the handcuffs," Joe said slowly, earning a look of utter surprise from Neal. "But if you try to run, if you try to escape, if you do anything that I don't particularly like," he pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and unfolded it. Neal instantly recognized it as Emily's wedding invitation.

"Then I will go find Emily, and I will kill her, and her fiancé," Joe's words were slow and deliberate, each one instilling fear in Neal's very core. The conman looked at his step-father with wide, fearful eyes, and Joe immediately knew that Neal would comply. The man smiled, put the paper away, and swapped it out for the handcuff key. Neal's muscles tensed when Joe moved to free him, not trusting him for even a second. Joe inserted the key in the lock and twisted it, unlocking the ring from around Neal's wrist.

Neal pulled his wrist away and scrambled to his feet, moving as far away from Joe as possible, until his back was pressed up against the wall.

Joe laughed slightly, "Not much has changed with you, has it, Neal?"

"Oh, a lot has changed, Joe," Neal said softly, his voice still shaking. "Believe me."

"Not really," Joe shook his head. "You're still the pathetic little wimp of a kid you always were."

Neal didn't respond, and Joe smiled again. Then he turned and headed for the door.

"Breakfast is in ten," he said over his shoulder. Then he pulled the door open and disappeared into the hall, closing the door behind him.

As soon as Neal was alone, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He nearly collapsed against the wall, tears in his eyes. He couldn't go through all this again. He left. He was free of him. He didn't have to worry about him anymore. That was the way it was supposed to be. But here he was again, trapped with his worst nightmare.

And now, he could only hope that he would get out alive like last time...

* * *

"Peter!" Peter looked up from his desk when he heard someone yell his name. He saw Emily standing in front of his desk, her eyes full of panic.

"Emily," Peter began.

"What the hell happened?" Emily demanded. "I go over to my brother's apartment to talk about the wedding and what do I find? A dozen squad cars and tons of police tape."

"Emily, calm down," Peter said gently.

"What happened?" Emily had tears in her eyes. "Why didn't you call me?"

"We got a call last night from the Marshalls," Peter said with a sigh. "They said that Neal's anklet had been cut. We went out to Neal's apartment, but it was empty. Neal hadn't taken anything with him, and Mozzie didn't know what was going on, so it was clear that he didn't run."

"Oh God," Emily's hand flew to her mouth as a tear escaped the corner of her eye. "He's not...?"

"Not that we know of, no," Peter assured her. "Listen, Emily, did Neal talk to you about anyone he was having problems with? Anyone who might want to hurt him?"

Emily thought for a moment, then shook her head. "No," she said, her voice shaking. "I haven't talked to Neal in about a week, and the last time we talked, he seemed fine."

"Ok," Peter sighed. He had been hoping to get something from her, but...

"You're going to find him, right, Peter?" Emily asked hesitantly. "I...I can't lose him again..."

"We're going to find him," Peter said definitively. "We have every law enforcement agency in the state of New York looking for him. We're going to find him, and we're going to bring him home."

"How can you sound so sure?" Emily didn't seem convinced.

"Because Neal is my friend," Peter told her. "And I'm not going to stop until I find him."

* * *

Neal sat at the kitchen table, surveying his surroundings, trying to figure out where he was. There was a plate of eggs in front of him, but he hadn't touched it. His mother was sitting on his left, and Joe was across from him.

"Neal," Joe's voice snapped Neal out of his trance. "Eat up. You're going to need your strength."

"I'm not hungry," Neal murmured.

"Oh, I doubt that," Joe laughed slightly. "Eat your eggs, Neal."

"I'm really not hungry," Neal insisted.

Joe's smile vanished. With a sigh, he reached behind his back and pulled out his gun, equipped with a silencer, and rested it on the table beside his plate.

"Eat your breakfast, Neal," he repeated, a threat under his words.

Neal hesitated, his heart increasing its speed. Finally, with a shaking hand, Neal picked up his fork and began poking at his scrambled eggs, taking a hesitant bite. Joe watched him for a while, but when he was finally satisfied that Neal was eating, he turned his attention back to his own food. The entire time, Linda just sat there, eating her eggs, as if she were completely oblivious to the tension in the room.

Neal looked out the window. The house was in a quiet neighborhood, the kind of neighborhood where it seems like nothing bad could ever happen, and the neighbors shrug off certain odd behaviors because nothing bad could happen where they live. This was probably the only reason Joe had a silencer on his gun. Neal wished he could call for help, but he didn't want to risk it. So, instead, he ate his eggs in silence, trying to figure out what to do next.

When everyone finished breakfast, Joe went and locked Neal in his room. The instant he was alone, Neal went to the window and pulled up on it, trying to get it open. To his disappointment, it was sealed shut. For the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon, Neal paced in his little room. He had never done too well in cages, and this one seemed especially small, even though it was much bigger than his first one. He didn't know how long he could last in the space, and he didn't want to find out.

At around two in the afternoon, Joe opened his step-son's door. Neal looked at him, surprised.

"Come on out," Joe said evenly. "Someone's on their way over, and I want you to meet them."

Neal hesitated, not sure he particularly wanted to meet whoever Joe had in mind. Finally, he decided that he had no choice and followed the bigger man out into the living room.

"Have a seat on the couch," Joe ordered. "Turn on the TV. Act like a normal person for a little while."

"You're one to talk about being normal," Neal muttered.

"Excuse me?" Joe raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Neal said quickly, sitting down on the couch.

"I thought so," Joe sneered.

Neal flinched, looking down, as he picked up the remote and turned the TV on. No sooner had he done so did the doorbell ring.

"Stay there," Joe snapped quietly as Neal stood up. The conman watched as his step-father walked over to the door and pulled it open, revealing a woman with red hair, bright green eyes, and a kind face. She was about Neal's age, maybe a little younger.

"Hi, Mr. Daniels," the woman smiled.

"Ms. Byrne," Joe smiled, putting on his best act. "Come in."

"Thank you," Ms. Byrne smiled back, stepping inside. Neal felt his stomach clench; he wished she hadn't done that.

"This is my son," Joe introduced them, gesturing to Neal as he closed the door behind her. Only Neal noticed him lock it.

"Hi, I'm Olivia," Ms. Byrne said pleasantly, extending her hand.

"Neal," Neal smiled, shaking her hand firmly, making sure he kept his act convincing.

"Nice to meet you," Olivia was all smiles as she sat down on the couch. Neal followed her lead, taking a seat beside her, and Joe took a seat in the chair nearby.

"So, what do you want to know about our bank?" Olivia asked Joe. "We're always happy to help prospective members feel at ease about their decision to choose us."

Neal's heart sank when he realized what this girl was here for. The conman cast a glance at Joe, who shot him a warning look before returning his gaze to Olivia.

"Well, obviously I would like to hear about your security," Joe said with a smile.

"Oh, sure, well," Olivia began.

"Joe!" came a woman's voice from down the hall. "Joe, come here!"

Joe let out a weary, annoyed sigh. "Excuse me a second," he said, standing up. "It's my wife."

"Of course," Olivia said with a smile. Joe turned and walked down the hall, disappearing inside one of the rooms.

As soon as he was gone, Neal turned to Olivia. "Listen to me," he said urgently. "You have to get out of here."

"What?" Olivia seemed shocked.

"You have to leave," Neal repeated. "Quick, before he comes back!"

Before Olivia could say anything, the pair heard shouting coming from down the hall.

"Mom?" Neal called, concerned, standing up. The shouting got louder, and Neal quickly began to make his way down the hall and to the room Joe had vanished into. Without hesitation, he pushed open the door and walked inside.

Linda was standing against the wall, her back pressed up against the plaster. Joe was yelling in her face, shaking her by her arms. Neal barely had time to process what was happening before Joe punched her across the face and knocked her to floor.

"Mom!" Neal shouted, running to his mother's side and kneeling next to her. "Are you ok?"

"Get out of here, Neal," Joe growled. Neal turned to see him aiming his gun at him. His dark eyes were full of anger and hatred. The conman barely registered Olivia standing speechless in the doorway.

"No," Neal refused, helping his mother to her feet. "I'm not letting you hurt her."

"Fine," Joe didn't even seem to know what he was doing; he was blinded by rage as he flicked the safety off of his gun. "Then you'll take her place."

Neal's racing heart made his breaths short and shallow, but he stood his ground. His eyes closed, waiting for Joe to pull the trigger.

"No," Linda whispered, stepping in front of her son at the last second. Joe didn't have a chance to stop himself from pulling the trigger. Two bullets shot from the barrel of his gun and buried themselves in Linda's chest.

Neal's eyes bolted open just in time to see Linda fall to the ground in front of him.

"No!" he shouted, tears immediately welling up in his eyes. He dropped down to the ground beside his mother and desperately tried to stop the bleeding.

Meanwhile, Joe was starting to realize what he had done. He quickly turned and aimed his gun at Olivia, whose hands were covering her mouth as she stared at the scene unfolding before her in horror.

"You stay right there, princess," he growled.

Neal stared down at his mother's face, his eyes full of terror, shocked at the...calmness he saw in her eyes.

"Come on, Mom," Neal said desperately. "Stay with me. Please, just stay with me..."

Linda looked up into her son's eyes as her life slowly began to fade away. After a moment, she smiled slightly. Using the only strength she had left, she reached up a hand and gently rested it on his cheek. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, full of sadness, regret, and love, and it shook Neal down to his very core.

"I finally did something right."

Neal felt his heart clench with grief and despair. When he saw the light fade from Linda's eyes and felt her arm grow limp and fall to the floor, he knew she was gone...


	3. I Fell Down the Stairs

**_Hey everybody! I hope you enjoy this chapter! I'm kinda liking how this story is unfolding. Anyway, enjoy, and DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!_**

* * *

Neal sat on the edge of the bed in his room, staring blankly at the blood on his hands, his mind blank, his heart empty. Olivia was with him. She was trying desperately to pull the window open. She had been at it for hours; the sun had long-since set, and they could see the moon and the stars in the sky above them.

"It's never going to open," Neal said quietly, not looking up. "Trust me, I've tried."

"Well, I can't just sit here!" Olivia said, her voice high and shrill. "I have to get out!"

"I told you to run," Neal pointed out.

"Yes, you were right, are you happy?" Olivia snapped sarcastically. "Now how do we get out of here?"

"We can't," Neal shrugged. His voice sounded defeated, tired, like he didn't want to go on anymore. Even though he had been so angry with his mom for so long, angry that she didn't help him, angry that she didn't protect him, still, he was even angrier with himself for not saving her.

"What does he want?" Olivia asked, sounding just as defeated as Neal as she sank down the floor beside the window.

"My guess," Neal sighed, not looking at her, continuing to stare at the blood that coated his hands, "is that he's going to use us both to rob the bank you work for. He'll use you to get an idea of the security, and he'll use me to actually do the robbing."

"And what makes you so qualified?" Olivia raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

Neal laughed a sad laugh. "I used to do things like that for a living," he told her. "I was a conman, forger, white collar thief...I'm exactly the kind of person Joe would need to have a chance at getting his money."

"Used to be?" Olivia pressed, intrigued.

"Yeah," Neal nodded. "I work for the FBI now. I'm a consultant. I've been in this kind of situation before, and if it works out the way it always has, then don't worry; you'll be fine. I won't let him hurt you."

"If you're a conman, then why don't you just con that creep into letting us go?" Olivia asked, suddenly excited by the idea.

Neal laughed, a hollow, empty sound. "I've lived with this guy from the time I was five until I was seventeen. During that time I get better and better at what I do. I was hustling pool on my way home from school from the time I was nine. I have been running real cons since the time I ran away when I was seventeen. But in all that time, I have never been able to con Joe. I have tried. I have tried numerous times. But it never works on him. I try to charm him, get on his good side, and it only ends badly. He sees right through everything I do. I don't know how, but he does. It's not even worth trying."

"Is he..." Olivia felt tears begin to well up in her eyes, and she took a moment to compose herself. When she spoke again, her voice was still shaking. "Is he going to kill us?"

"It's hard to say," Neal sighed. "He's never killed anyone in the time I've known him, but I can't say for sure that he won't now."

Olivia let out a shaky breath, her eyes full of tears. A tear escaped the corner of her eye, and she sniffed, the stress breaking her resolve.

Neal finally tore his eyes away from his hands and looked at her. His heart ached with sympathy, and he immediately stood up and walked over to her.

"Hey," he said gently. "It's going to be ok. I promise. I'm not going to let him hurt you. No one else is dying because of him."

Olivia didn't say anything, burying her face in her hands and sobbing quietly.

"Olivia, look at me," Neal's voice, while still gentle, was firm. Slowly, Olivia raised her head from her hands to meet Neal's sincere blue eyes.

"Do you believe me?" he asked quietly, holding her gaze steadily. His eyed portrayed no deception, no attempt to hide the truth, only a heart-felt sincerity. Olivia hesitantly nodded.

"Do you trust me?" Neal knew he was asking a lot, but he needed her to trust her if he was going to have any chance of saving her.

Olivia paused. She didn't know how to answer this man who had admitted to her that he conned people for a living at one point in his life. After what felt like hours, she nodded once more.

"Good," Neal gave her a reassuring smile. "Then do what I say, and we should be fine."

Olivia smiled slightly in return, and wiped her eyes.

Neal watched as Olivia turned and sat down against the wall, looking up through the window at the night sky. Even though he kept his face calm and reassuring, inside, he wasn't as sure as he seemed. Inside, he was starting to wonder if he could really guarantee that either of them would get out alive...

* * *

"_Help!" Emily called as she walked quickly into the ER. Her little brother was leaning heavily on her for support, his arm held against his broken ribs. She was about fifteen, and Neal about thirteen. Joe had gotten home from work to find that Neal had dropped and broken a plate. Things got ugly, and now Neal was barely able to stand. Joe was out parking the car with her mom._

"_What happened?" a nurse asked as she came up to them._

"_My brother fell down the stairs," Emily told her, sticking with the story Joe had told her to tell. If she didn't...she didn't even want to know what would happen to her and Neal._

"_Ok, it's going to be ok," the nurse said gently as a gurney was brought over. "Just give him to me and we'll get some x-rays done."_

_Emily nodded and helped Neal lie down on the gurney. The cries of painful protest that erupted from her little brother's broken body caused tears to fill her eyes. She watched as he was wheeled away, and disappeared from sight._

_An hour later, Emily was sitting in her brother's hospital room. Their mother was sitting on the other side of his bed, and Joe was leaning against the wall by the door, looking at them with a bit of disgust in his eyes. Neal had four broken ribs, a fractured skull, a broken wrist, a broken leg, and a broken jaw. He would be getting casts put on later. The siblings would have matching wrist casts; Emily had received hers on her left wrist the week before after a relatively minor argument with Joe._

"_How're you feeling?" Emily asked quietly. Her brother was on pain killers and was pretty tired._

"_Better," Neal told her, trying not to move his jaw. It would be wired shut in a few hours. "I'll be fine."_

"_Good," Joe growled, apparently still angry, "then you can pay your own damn medical bills."_

"_Could you just stop it?" Emily snapped quietly, unable to keep her mouth shut anymore. "You put him in here, you pay for it. Stop being such an ass."_

_Joe's eyes burned with anger, and he looked about ready to say something when there was a knock on the door._

"_Mr. and Mrs. Davidson?" a man in a suit asked. He had brown hair and chestnut eyes that seemed wary of everyone. There was a badge on his belt that identified him as a detective. Beside him stood a woman, also with a suit and badge, with light brown hair and grey eyes that were hard to read. Behind them both was another woman with short red hair and green eyes. She was dressed in a suit like the others, but she didn't wear a badge_

"_Yes," Linda spoke up from beside Neal._

"_I'm Detective Andrews," the man introduced himself. "This is my partner, Detective Patterson, and this is Janet Byrne. We'd like to ask Neal and Emily a few questions if you don't mind."_

"_Sure," Linda agreed, not making a move to stand up. The detective smiled._

"_Ma'am, we meant alone," he clarified. "We'd like to talk to them alone."_

"_They're fifteen and thirteen," Joe objected. "You can't legally talk to them without one of us present."_

"_Actually, we can, if we have a social worker present," Detective Patterson spoke up, glaring at Joe, "which is the reason Ms. Byrne is here."_

_Joe's jaw tensed, and he seemed reluctant to leave._

"_Mr. Davidson, we can have you removed from the premises if that's what you'd prefer," Andrews said threateningly._

_Joe hesitated, then pushed off the wall. "Linda, let's go," he grumbled, shooting a warning glare at his two step-children. Linda stood up from her chair and followed her husband out of the room, closing the door behind them. Neal and Emily could still see them through the window._

_For a few seconds, no one said anything. Then Emily cleared her throat._

"_What's this all about?" she asked, acting thoroughly confused._

"_I think you know the answer to that question," Andrews said with a sympathetic smile._

"_I'm sorry, I don't," Emily denied._

"_Emily, you don't have to lie," Patterson said gently. "Just tell us what really happened to Neal."_

"_What do you mean?" Emily's confused expression persisted._

"_Emily, this is Neal's fourth trip to a hospital this month," Janet told her. "And his forty-ninth this year."_

"_What can I say," Neal said through his teeth, doing everything not to move his jaw. "I'm a klutz."_

"_How'd you break your wrist, Emily?" Patterson asked._

"_I wiped out on my bike," Emily told her automatically._

"_Really?" Patterson raised an eyebrow. "On your bike?"_

"_Yes," Emily nodded._

"_It's December," Patterson told her._

"_Hence the reason I wiped out," Emily said with a smile. "Tire hit a patch of ice."_

_Andrews sighed. "Look, guys," he said after a moment. "We're not trying to get you in trouble. We're trying to help you. If you tell us what really happened, we can protect you. We can make sure that you won't get hurt anymore."_

_Neal and Emily looked at each other, then out the window at Joe. Their step-father was glaring at them with such rage and hatred that they both flinched. Andrews noticed this and quickly closed the blinds, blocking their view of their abuser._

_The siblings looked back at each other. They wanted to tell the detectives everything. They wanted to get away from Joe, far away, but they knew better than to expect a happy ending if they spoke up. They'd heard too many stories about kids who told their stories and were taken from their homes only to be put into foster care, and into a worse situation._

"_I don't know what you're talking about," Neal said at last, his voice quiet._

"_Yes, Neal, you do," Patterson said gently._

"_Detectives, I don't know how many times I have to tell you," Neal's voice was firm when he spoke, if full of pain and hints of fear._

"_I fell down the stairs."_

* * *

Emily woke up with a jolt in the middle of the night. She sat up in bed with her heart racing and her breaths short and shallow. Beside her, her fiancé, David, woke up as well.

"Hey," he said, his voice portraying how tired he was. "You ok?"

"Yeah," Emily said quietly. "Just a nightmare."

"Neal again?" David asked knowingly.

Emily sighed and nodded. David sat up and wrapped his arms around her.

"It's going to be ok, Em," he said comfortingly. "Peter's going to find Neal. He's going to be fine."

"How can you sound so sure?" Emily asked him.

"Because I've met Peter and I've met Neal," David told her. "If there's anyone equipped to find Neal, it's Peter."

Emily was quiet, her brow knit together in distress.

"There's something else, isn't there?" David asked. "I know that look."

"I told you about my step-father, right?" Emily asked in reply.

"He's not back, Em," David sighed, shaking his head.

"I saw him, David," Emily insisted. "I know I did."

"No, you didn't," David told her. "You heard Neal went missing, and you thought about how he went missing after the fight with your step-dad, and you felt guilty about going to college and leaving him behind, and so, you imagined you saw Joe standing on the street."

"I hate it when you try and head-shrink me," Emily grumbled.

"I know," David mumbled with a smile. "But you love me anyway."

"Yeah," Emily agreed. "I do."

David chuckled softly, kissing Emily on the top of her head. "Go to sleep, Em," he said after a moment.

"In a minute," Emily promised, pulling away and standing up. "I'm going to get some water."

"Ok," David nodded, lying back down. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Emily smiled at him, then headed out into the hall. Only after she heard David begin snoring softly once more, she pulled her cell phone out of her sweatpants pocket and dialed Peter's number.

"Hello?" When Peter answered, he sounded tired, but not as if he had been sleeping; in fact, he sounded as if he hadn't closed his eyes for more than a couple seconds since Neal went missing.

"Hey, Peter, it's Emily," Emily whispered.

"Look, Emily, we haven't found anything yet," Peter sighed. "I'll tell you when we do."

"No, that's not why I called," Emily shook her head. "Look, I don't know if this is anything, but..."

"What?" Peter seemed wide awake now.

"I...I thought I saw my step-dad on the street when I was walking home from work," Emily told him. "Joe always hated Neal, and every time I saw him after Neal ran away, he would ask how my search was going, and that if I found him, I should tell him, because he wanted to kill him. If he's here and he found Neal...I don't even want to know what he could have done to him."

"Alright, we'll check it out," Peter promised. "I'll let you know what we find."

"Thanks, Peter," Emily smiled.

"No problem, Emily," Emily could almost hear the FBI man smile. "Bye."

"Bye," Emily hung up her phone and let out a weary sigh before walking back to her room and climbing into bed beside David.

When she closed her eyes, she dreamt of Neal.


End file.
